An Assemblage of Sorts
by Baroness Emma
Summary: A series of interconnected oneshots. Tony and Banner are the main focus, but the whole cast will make appearances. Basically this is a way for me to get into the minds of the Avengers, and introduce my new OC. No slash. Will not go above a T rating. There will be spoilers.
1. Well, This Is Awkward

The Avengers IS SUCH A GOOD MOVIE. Everybody stop reading this and go see it. Or see it again. RIGHT NOW.

Go on. I'm serious. GO SEE IT.

I'll wait. . .

. . .

. . .

. . .

Right, everybody back now? Good, because HERE THERE BE SPOILERS. A lot of them. So I'm not kidding when I say see the movie first. I'm also new to the fandom and to the Marvel Universe in general. Please excuse the newbie mistakes. No other warnings. This will be a mildly T rated series. Occasional language. No slash.

My Four Rules Of Fanfic:

Take Nothing But Care

Steal Nothing But Hearts

Leave Nothing But Constructive Criticism

Own Nothing But OC's

(^_^)

Greetings to one and all. May this be a long and happy drabble series! Requests and suggestions are welcome. Reviews are eagerly anticipated. Flames are studiously ignored.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Summary:** Bruce doesn't want to go back to India, so he stays at the Stark Tower. Fury comes to visit, bringing someone from their past. What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

**Well, This Is Awkward**

"So, you know what a bed is, right?" Tony gestured, taking in all of the small, very modern looking room.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. . ."

"'K, just making sure. . ."

"I'm not an animal, Stark."

"Not _always_."

"Point. . ." Bruce conceded with a nod, "But I did have a fairly civilized and halfway functional childhood, you know."

"As functional as childhood gets when you're a genius, I imagine."

"You're not wrong. . ."

Bruce wasn't about to tell Tony the story of his life. Not when he was about to move in with the man.

Well. . . not _move in _move in - but Tony had offered a floor of the Stark Tower to him for a lab, and Bruce, as a scientist and a bachelor and a rather anti-social type of both, had decided to live in the Tower too. Being that close to his work, as well as having two people nearby who understood why he didn't go out much was a vast improvement over. . . well, over practically every other situation he'd ever been in.

"Tony, be nice," said Ms. Potts, in her kindly, but still stern voice, "I'm sure Bruce will make a perfectly good tenant." She set a specially coded keycard on the nightstand.

"Sure," Tony said, pointing at him with mock solemnity, "Just so long as you promise to come up to the penthouse every now and then and talk some English with me."

Bruce smirked shyly, "Yeah, sure."

"Jarvis, did you get that?"

_"I did, sir. Welcome to the Stark Tower, Mr. Banner. I am at your service."_

"Okay you two," said Pepper, "_**I**_ am going to go work on organizing the finances and permits we need to repair this place," She looked askance at Tony, then back at Bruce, "Welcome Dr. Banner, please make yourself comfortable." She walked primly out of the room, and Bruce cast his eyes down, since he figured Tony probably appreciated Ms. Pott's. . . _figure_. . . just as much as most men did, but also that he probably didn't appreciate most men's appreciation. . .

Darn, friendships were difficult. . .

He added that frustration to the small pool of simmering resentment he kept inside his belly, blinked and inhaled sharply, and looked back up at Tony.

"So, you going to help me set up my lab, or are you just here to make sure I don't trash it on day one?"

The lightly sardonic tone left Tony unfazed, "Nah," he said, "Jarvis can help you as much as I could - I'm just here to invite you to dinner," he looked guiltily at the door where Pepper had left, "Fury is coming over, with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s new official liasion officer. Turns our Natasha doesn't want the job, go figure. . . but Pepper's not invited. . ." he shrugged and sighed, "I got the impression that Fury wanted to introduce her to you and me before anyone else."

"Her? The liason officer is a woman?"

"So I gathered."

Bruce grinned a little, "Is that why Pepper isn't invited?"

"_No_," said Stark, both amused and annoyed, "And you of all people should know just how _un_-forthcoming Fury can be when he wants to be."

"True enough," said Bruce, carefully placing his small bag of belongings inside the door of his new bedroom, "I'll be there."

"Jarvis? Order vegetarian lasagna for four."

_"Very good, Sir."_

Tony put his hands in his pockets and sauntered out, "See you at seven."

The door closed before Bruce could reply.

* * *

"Stark must have updated his security measures," said Fury, trying to use the entry code Coulson had hacked only a few days before.

His companion smirked, "I'm not exactly surprised, Nicholas. Iron Man needs good security, no? And this Stark - he is a baron of industry, yes? S.H.I.E.L.D. has more need of him than he has of us, clearly."

"You _sure_ you've never met him, Renn?"

"Entirely."

"Because you sound like you've known him since high school."

"I know the type, Nikko _mio_."

Fury said "mmph", and gave up trying to hack the door, asking for entry in the more conventional manner. Jarvis let them in, and the private express elevator had them at the penthouse door in an impressive ten seconds flat. The woman standing next to him cocked one eyebrow at the machine they were standing in. "This repulsor-tech we need so badly, Nicholas - it appears Stark has devised many more applications than he has reported to you." Her obviously European accent added a lilting humor to her words, and she strode into the penthouse's grand central room with a careless ease.

"That's why you're here, Renn."

"According to _you_, Nicholas."

"What's according to Fury?" asked Tony, walking in casually from the more private back section of the penthouse. "And does it have anything to do with you, Miss. . . "

She turned to him crisply, "Nick simply thinks that all the world ought to go his way, and it does have to do with me - and you, Mr. Stark," the woman offered her hand formally, "I am Dr. Margherita Vittoria Felice Borgia del Grehtto, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D."

Tony whistled, "That is some handle." He bowed like a gentleman and took her hand, but she only laughed.

"You may blame my father. Please call me Gria," she looked back at Fury, "Though Nicholas here _will_ call me Renn, the saints take him."

Tony smiled a question, "Renn?"

"It is short for Renaissance. You are Iron Man, Clint Barton is Hawkeye, I am Renaissance." She smiled like a child who has completed the memory portion of a quiz. "You understand the concept of code names, yes?" Her innocence was an obvious put-on, but she was not insincere.

"Sure, but why. . .?"

"Bios later, Stark," said Fury, still standing in the doorway, "Where is our third guest?"

"Probably still unpacking. . ." he came to himself, suddenly, "But where are my manners? Come in. Sit down. Have a drink?"

"Maybe later," said Fury, still standing and looking around.

Gria sat, clearly completely at ease, "I would like a sherry if you have it - a white wine will do if you do not."

Tony smiled at her imperious tone, "Dry or sweet?"

"Dry."

"Of course."

"I find it stimulates the appetite," she took a handful of almonds from a bowl on the coffee table, and leaned back on the couch, somehow instantly at home, "Don't you?"

"Honestly I've never found mine needed much stimulating. . ."

Her laugh was bright and open, "A man in every respect, Mr. Stark, I see. . ."

"Please, call me Tony," he offered her a small but generous portion of sherry, which she took with a nod of acknowledgement, and sipped pleasantly.

Fury surveyed them with his usual general disapproval, but also with a shade more impatience than normal.

"Stark, _where_ is Banner?"

Gria started, putting down her drink with a shaking hand, "Banner? _Bruce _Banner?"

"Well, I certainly hope there's only one of me," said Bruce, entering suddenly and greeting Fury as warmly as one could, "And I hear we're supposed to meet the new liason offi. . ." He caught sight of Dr. Gria, and all the air left the room.

"Renn," he said stiffly.

"Hello Bruce. It has been a long time." Her voice sounded sad more than anything else.

"I'm sure you think it hasn't been long enough. . ." he turned on his heel and left as suddenly as he had come.

Fury and Gria shared a long look.

She spoke up, sounding rather resigned, "You had better go after him, Nikko. Tell him about Milan - _all_ about it. You are the only one who can, right now. . ."

Fury sighed, annoyed, "Yeah, okay. . . but you owe me, Ghretto. . ."

He left, hurriedly.

Tony, the rather hurt look on his face seeming entirely justified, had, however, not said a word during this exchange, but now decided it was time to make sense of an awkward situation.

"So. . ."

"It is a good sign that he called me Ghretto, actually," she said, cutting him off, "When I'm _really_ in trouble, he calles me Borgia."

"Wait, wasn't this all _his_ idea?"

She looked up at him, "No, in fact it was mine. . ." she looked back at the door, "I did not know that Bruce would be here. . . but apparently Nicholas did. He was wise not to mention it."

"So. . ." Tony tried again, "I'm assuming. . . you and he. . ."

"It was over a long time ago, Stark."

"Didn't look that way. . ."

"I said over, not resolved."

"Ah."

She quickly drained her sherry glass and held it up, "Please?"

He went over to pour her more, and asked, "So, other than riling up a man who can turn into a giant green rage-fueled steam engine at will, why exactly are you here?"

"Did not Fury say?"

"Have you _met_ him?"

Her smile returned, briefly, as she accepted her replenished drink, "I have. A great deal. In fact," she was quite limber, and she tucked her feet underneath herself before continuing, "It was Fury who helped me. . . I believe the term is "get over" Bruce."

Tony shook his head, "Wow. Have the people at S.H.I.E.L.D. ever told you that you have an interesting taste in men?"

She smirked, "I'm sure they would constantly - if it were generally known."

"Huh. So, are you here to confuse your co-workers even more, or have you and Fury worked out some new grand infiltration scheme for Stark Industries?"

"You do not give up, do you?"

"When my people and company are concerned, never."

She sighed, "In my opinion, Fury deploying Natasha at you in the fashion he did was a serious judgemental error," she licked her lips, and looked down, "My being here isn't a repeat of that error, Tony. Infiltration, in this instance, is not the goal."

"Then what is?"

"I want to join the Avengers."

He leaned back, "And it's that simple?"

"No, of course not," she sighed again, "I work for S.H.I.E.L.D., as you know - I am head of the Bio-tech division, in point of fact, and I also lead one of the most succesful field teams ever - or I did until last week." She closed her eyes a moment, obviously restraining her emotions, "Four of my agents were killed in the attack on the dark-energy ground facility - fifteen years of my research was blown away - three quarters of the people I know and respect are now dead - or worse, absorbed by that - _monster_." The regret in her voice was unmistakable, "While you and "_your people_" - I wonder how well they would take that assumption, don't you? - while you were being given your nice toys aboard the helicarrier and having each new battle conveniently spelled out for you, I was buried under forty thousand tons of rock, trying to make sure six dozen injured people had _oxygen_ - let alone food." She dialed back her escalating hysteria, and stood, not looking at Tony, "Not every battle makes the 5 o'clock news, and not every hero gets a fanclub. I asked to meet you because I wanted just a tiny portion back of what Loki took from me," she turned to him, intent, "I need a new team, Anthony Stark."

"And so the Avengers become your replacement team? S.H.I.E.L.D. just walks in and takes us over, is that it?"

"_No_," she growled, vexed, "You do not comprehend."

"So _make _me comprehend."

With a catlike swipe she snatched the potted plant off the coffee table, surprising Tony, and making him cringe a little. She half smiled for a moment, then focused on the plant. It was a succulent aloe type thing - he didn't know the name of it, but as she looked at it, it began to change color, writhe, and began to take on an entirely new form. After just a minute of her gaze, it was a strangely shaped dark brown spiked thing - it looked oddly dangerous. An impression that was only heightened when Gria unceremoniously dropped the earthenware pot. It smashed, leaving the. . . thing . . . free. She placed it on her hand. It was clear now it was a fitted claw gauntlet, somehow fully articulated and obviously deadly sharp. She stepped over to him, showing the weapon off rather threateningly.

"_Olneya tesota_" she said, intoning the Latin name with more than perfect skill, "Iron wood - genetically altered to be harder than chrome steel." She delicately touched a shoulder of his t-shirt with a claw. He heard a stitch rip. Just one. "Name one of your machines that can do _that_, Stark."

Okay, he was impressed. "How?"

She turned away again, briefly composing herself. "My mutation. . ."

"Ahhh," he said, understanding at last, "And the Avengers are the _only _team that would accept you? It's the racism card again, is it?" He didn't want to sound heartless, but, well, he had to be sure.

She whirled on him, "_NO!_" She gestured with the gauntlet, "This - is only the beginning. I can control any cellular substance - and its generation, mutation and re-generation - and _that_, Tony Stark, is called a _superpower_." She drew herself up, proudly, "I am a person the Avengers _need_. I have a superpower, and I work for S.H.I.E.L.D. - now, as you are, you are _vendicatore_ - Vigilantes, criminals with a governmental sanction - but when I am with you, I make you part of S.H.I.E.L.D. The rest of the team need not register with S.H.I.E.L.D. so long as I am in a position to be _able_ to keep tabs on all of you."

"So, Fury does want the Avengers infiltrated?"

"Of course he does. Would not you?"

He pondered a minute. "I suppose I would, yes," he said, shrugging, "But you would not, actually, be reporting to him?"

"Oh, I would be. . ." she paused, looking at him as a conspirator looks at one who does not understand, "But what you should ask yourself is - _what_ would I be reporting?"

"So. . .?"

"And so, Fury wants me here, for reasons. I want to be here - for other reasons. And you should want me here - for other reasons yet again."

"Hmm." He walked over to the security status board, "Hey, they're coming back. . ." sudden mischief flared in his posture, "You want to blow their minds?"

She looked hesitant for less than a second until her own smile became ferociously mischievous.

Oh, she'd make a _fine_ Avenger. . .

* * *

Nick spied a familiar outline in the window of a small coffee shop, and walked in, quickly ordering hot tea before he sat down across from his errant Avenger.

Bruce waited until Nick's drink had come before speaking.

"It was. . . _him_. . . who broke up with her, you know - not me." He leaned forward, trying to be as private as possible, "I met her before the worst of the dual-personality syndrome had been taken care of - sometimes he'd drown me out for weeks. Months, even." He laughed, mirthlessly. "And the crazy thing? _He_ was the one in love with her. Oh, I liked her well enough - she was pretty, strong, smart, had this accent. . . but him? He was infatuated." Bruce took a drink from his own cup before continuing, "So, we're moving all over, right? And she's doing all the planning, since he couldn't and I was out for weeks at a time - and one day I wake up, and she's gone. There's no note, no indication, nothing - she didn't even take her things. I didn't even know if she was alive. And he won't tell me anything. Not a word. And I still don't know what happened, even today - it's one of the memories he wouldn't give back to me. It's only his." He scrubbed a hand over his chin, "So I do what any decent man would, right? I try and find her. I ask around, I search, and I darn near give myself a concussion trying to get _him_ to talk to me. Nothing. For three months, not a solitary thing. But then, yeah. . . _then_ I wise up and go look near the Peace Corps headquarters in Milan. And do I find her? Yeah. I do. _Walking hand in hand with Nicholas Joseph Fury_. And looking pretty damn happy about it. Well, I stand there, like a confused idiot, and she sees me. Does she recognize me? Well, it's only _been _three months. . . she knows who I am, sure. . . and then she turns and kisses the man she's walking with." Bruce looked up, "You." He leaned back and sighed, "Sure, _then_ I fall in love with her. I only do what I should after it's too late. Story of my life, Fury. So don't ask me to work with her - you can't be at peace around someone who reminds you of all your faults every time you look at them."

Nick had sat and listened nearly expressionlessly to Bruce's story, and now that he did speak, it was almost as if Bruce had never spoken.

"She hasn't been able to tell you something for fifteen years. It's _still _classified, but I'm going to tell you anyway. This is confidential, Banner."

Bruce looked unconvinced. "Okay. Sure."

"That day you saw us - we weren't together."

He smirked, incredulous, "Right, so you mean to say you _never_. . ."

"Oh, we did. But that was at least a year later," Fury took the last sip of his tea and crushed the paper cup, "And it was over eight months after that. That day you saw us, was her first undercover mission - I was posing as a U.S. pilot, and her husband. She couldn't risk anything to do with you - it very likely would have fouled up the mission. Two days later she single-handedly took out an A.I.M. outpost. Darndest thing I've ever seen, and that's saying something. She told me later that joining S.H.I.E.L.D. was the only thing which kept her going - after. . . _he_. . . whatever."

Banner looked half relieved and half sad for a moment, but then looked up, confused, "You had her cleared and trained in less than three months? How?"

Fury's lip twitched, approximating a smile, "She never told you she went to high school in upstate New York, did she?"

"Well, she might have told _him_ that, but I don't kno. . . Oh, wait, what's that guy's name? Xavier?"

"That's the one."

"Explains a lot. . ." a thin layer of tension seemed to fall away from him then, like a coat he hadn't been able to take off for fifteen years. . .

Fury stood up. "You ready to get back to work, soldier?"

"Scientist, but yes, I think so. . ." he stood, managing to look chagrined and self confident at the same time, "And Nick? . . . thanks." He offered his hand to Fury.

"Don't mention it, Doctor," he shook Bruce's outstretched hand, "And I _mean_ don't mention it, comprende?"

Bruce's shy smile returned, "Don't worry Director Fury - I'm a quiet person, really. . ."

* * *

The elevator ride back up to the penthouse was indeed very quiet, and the doors opened onto the room nearly exactly as it was when they left. . . except Tony and Gria were kissing.

Both Fury and Banner stopped in their tracks, entirely and thoroughly stunned.

There was a cough, and Tony looked up. He suddenly pushed Gria away, his face priceless.

"I just came up for my car keys," said Pepper, wryly, "What exactly am I interrupting?"

Gria, completely at ease, looked at everyone else in turn.

"It was a pleasure to meet you Mr. Stark - I look forward to seeing the rest of your team at my laboratory tomorrow."

"It was good to see you again, Bruce," she smiled softly at Banner, "Truly."

She gave a hard look to Fury, "We will. . . _talk_. . . later, Nicholas."

She nodded at Pepper, as though being caught kissing another woman's boyfriend was the least of her problems, "I'll show myself out," and she glided into the elevator and was gone.

All eyes turned to Tony.

He shrugged, casually, "So, lasagne, anyone?" . . .

He made Fury pay for half of the damage done to the Stark Tower after that.


	2. My Brother Has A Name, It's LOKI

**Summary:** Thor pleads for Loki's life. Odin is a little worried as to why.

* * *

**My Brother Has A First Name, It's L-O-K-I**

Traveling via the Tesseract cube had none of the smooth grandeur of the Bifrost, and little of the pure power of Odin's direct energy transference, but at least Thor could control it himself - a choice which did not apply to either Heimdall's or Odin's methods. And at the moment, control was necessary, for Loki did not take defeat as quietly as the Avengers had assumed he had. Their first jump from Midgard had been fouled by Loki projecting his phantom mirror images into Jotunheim, and on Thor's second attempt to return to Asgard, Loki had pulled them to Svartalfheim. In both cases, a defiant twinkle in his brother's eyes had been the only response to his enraged reproaches - naturally - since the special gag he had brought stifled all other expression from his wily prisoner.

He had not thought that Loki would be so able to influence the Tesseract's power, but, blast him, he must have learned a great deal about it while it had been in his possession. This time, Thor focused entirely on Asgard as he activated the Cube - Asgard, his home, HIS realm, the Golden Realm, which one day, he would rule. . .

And just like that, they were standing on the remnants of the Rainbow Bridge.

"Ever you come in unlooked-for ways, Thor Odinson," said Heimdall, a small smile in his voice.

"Unlooked for, perhaps," said Thor, hefting the Cube in its safety cylinder, "But never unseen, aye Heimdall?"

The Guardian of the Bifrost turned his eyes for a moment from overseeing the Nine Realms, and looked closely at the two young men, and, especially, Thor's cargo.

"Indeed," he said, for once distracted. It had been many ages of the world since he had last seen the Tesseract, but here it was - unmistakable. "And what other unlooked-for events have you been tangled up among, my princes?"

Thor smiled a twisted half smile, "Things of too great an import to stand here telling tales of them - yet," he placed the Cube beside Heimdall, thus entrusting it to his care, "But I will return, Good Guardian, and tell you all."

Heimdall nodded, once, slowly, "Good, Thunderer. For, though I see all, I do not always understand," his eyes narrowed at Loki for a moment, "And then there are a few things which even I do not see - nor wish to." And he turned back to look, steadily and unceasingly, at the Realms which were his duty.

* * *

"You cannot be serious, Father."

"I assure you, my son, I am entirely serious."

"But. . . death by the Midgard serpent? And banishment of his immortal spirit to Nifelheim? He is never to see the halls of Valhalla? Father, is that not. . ." he looked down, "Too vengeful?"

Odin's one eye hardened at his son, "How _dare_ you presume to lecture me on the virtues of _vengeance_? I have made up my mind, Thor. Loki has attempted to subdue a world that does not need subduing, and the deaths of many have resulted. Not to mention the releasing of the Chitauri from the realm _**I **_locked them in. What I did to you for your childish mischief would not work with Loki - he has not your sense of honor - or shame." Odin sighed, "Alas, that can probably be laid at my door, but he will not cause such destruction again, not while I live and breathe."

Thor fell silent, feeling oddly soft-hearted towards his brother in this matter, and, entirely unused to expressing such feelings, frustrated with himself for having been so entirely obsessed with vengeance, battle and death for most of his existence.

"Allfather," he said, respectfully, "It has been Loki's assertion from the start of his betrayal that he was taken into Asgard only for the purpose of humiliating him. He has said and will say that he was exalted only to be brought low once again, and that we, as Asgardians, only wish to see ourselves glorified," he paused, not looking fully at Odin yet, unwilling to see what wrath might be there, "And, indeed, if this punishment is carried out thus, he may be proven right."

"What?" Odin's voice was soft, but carried a demand for explanation in it.

"Indeed, Father." Thor looked up, "We were both your sons - and yet we are to have different punishments for the same failing. Loki would say that this is unfair. I must say - I _must_ say, Father, that, in this singular matter, I agree."

Odin growled a skeptical "Hmmm," and leaned forward upon his throne, "What other punishment would _you_ have inflicted upon him, then?"

"I do not know, Father," Thor conceded, "It is indeed for you to decide - but this I know - nothing I could do, and nothing I have ever done, could make me earn such a punishment from you as an eternity in Nifelheim."

Odin leaned back, "Have you considered that banishment to the realm of Hel would not be such a punishment for Loki as it would be to you?"

"I have, and I do not think it would be."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Hel and I would battle once, and have done. One of us would then be the better, and one the worse. One serving, the other leading. She would either submit to me, or would erase me so completely that I would not know the difference," Thor drew himself up, "But with Loki. . . he could never win, and Hel would never cease to remind him of her victory. The torture would be unending - and Loki would _want_ it so, for it would feed his hate. He would, I am sure, rather bathe in his bitterness for you and me than give the slightest thought to his own humiliation," Thor looked at his father steadily, "Loki would rather die than change."

"As I said - that which I did to you would not work with your brother."

"Just so, Father, and perhaps it is this precise fact which is the key." Thor crossed his arms, "What if the punishment was not _meant_ to work?"

"WHAT?" Odin roared, and Thor took a step forward to forestall his father, asking with his eyes for him to listen just one moment more.

"Yes - think on it, Father - a punishment of the same order which you would have given me - perhaps even the same punishment, with a clear means of escape if he comes to meet a standard of worthiness other than his own. In other words - treat him precisely as you would if I had done what he has done. . . then what can he say? The punishment will be ineffectual, perhaps, but it will quiet his tongue for once - and he will, perhaps, understand something of the love you hold for him through this. And, also. . ." he paused. Odin waved him on. "If. . . if I meet my end in battle, I would not leave you without a son. The reason you adopted Loki is still a sound one." He inhaled sharply, changing tack, "Also. . . he _may_ - I do only say may, find a way to escape such a punishment - and think of the triumph he could gain in _thinking_ he has foiled your plans, when in fact he has only broken free of a bond not meant to hold him - that thinking triumph might bring him back to you, Father - might restore him to our family - for all he _wants_ is a triumph against us, certainly,"

Odin laughed, quietly, but long. "Trickery and double talk, Thor?" he said, wonderingly, "Where is this from?"

"Perhaps it is from not wishing my brother to be the only one of the two of us who thinks before he acts."

"And perhaps it comes from not wishing to tell a human that the young god she loves has participated in fratricide?"

Thor bristled, "Jane Foster has nothing to do with this particular issue, Father."

"No?"

"No," he hesitated for just a second, "But she has to do with one other thing I wished to speak to you on."

Odin rose, coming down from his throne and slapping his son jovially across the shoulders, "Very well, I shall think on what you have said - I am pleased with you, my son. . ." he led him to the door of the royal feasting chamber, which, by the sounds coming through the thick velvet curtains, had clearly had been laid with a marvelous repast, "You fought well with the mortals against the Chitauri - a pity that Midgard cannot throw the sort of celebratory feast worthy of such a battle. . ."

Thor lowered his voice, not wishing to enter the feasting room just yet, "I beg your pardon?"

Odin barked a short laugh, "Am I wrong, or were there were six of you in a shabby room, eating. . . burritos?"

"Shawarma, Father. . ."

He waved the word away, "Just as you say, just as you say. . ."

"And we were all exhausted. . ."

"Of _course_."

"And relieved that Iron Man was still living. . ."

"Naturally. . ."

"Father?"

"Yes?"

"Jane Foster. . . ?"

The look on his son's face was a mixture of eagerness, hesitance, confusion, and. . . something which even Odin had some difficulty reading. . .

"Soon, my boy, soon," he gestured grandly, "But first. . ." He swept aside the curtains, allowing the cheers of the gods beyond it to wipe away whatever that expression on his son's face was. . .

He might have sworn the boy was in love. . .

* * *

The prison in the Golden Tower was only somewhat less ostentatious than the rest of the palace. The walls and floor were plain, unadorned stone, the angles stark and glowering, but the cells were spacious, the materials rich, and the light was the healthy greenish gold of sunlight through leaves. Loki sat upon his pallet - the beds _were_ hard, yet that was nothing, for he cared but little for softness, and less still for comfort.

The fourth wall of each cell was entirely open - no bars or barricades for the prisoners of Odin, oh no - the branches of Yggdrasil alone were enough to sate the Allfather's need to have dominance over those he had already subdued. The very top tendrils of the tree reached up from Odin's private inner chamber beneath, from which the tree grew, and these thin wisps of leaves and branches were woven across the doorways to each cell. Such laughably thin protection would have been an insignificant barrier in any other instance, but here they were not only the source of light and warmth, but of indomitable power, as well.

He had already tried to break out. But the Odinforce was at its strongest at the very source. Dark magic and trickery were useless. Naturally. They could not leave him in a place where he was not reminded every _second_ that he was lesser than Odin and Thor, could they? A mere Jotun princeling, subdued into insignificance. That's all he was to them.

And so he sat on his pallet. Waiting. Smoldering. Planning. And most of all. . . yearning. It was strange, but now that it was impossible to return to his time of youth and innocence, he found himself remembering the happy days of play and laughter unstained by malice. . .

Enough.

Such soft remembrances must have been brought forth by the presence of Yggdrasil. They meant nothing. It was only more controlling nonsense from Odin.

Loki found he preferred the threats and promise of pain from the Chitauri to the soft, empty, utterly deceptive enticements of the Allfather. What tripe Asgard swallowed every day! _He_, Loki, would have none of it, even if it meant a fate worse than death.

Though. . .

Somewhere inside him a small boy yearned for his brother.

_Enough_.

The branches of Yggdrasil hummed and glowed more brightly for a moment, as one of its precious chosen approached the door of his prison.

Thor's head and shoulders appeared in one of the larger gaps in the latticework.

"Have you come to gloat, then?" Loki sneered.

That hated, imperious face fell for a moment, "That is what _you_ would do, brother." Loki hardened his heart to the sympathy he heard in his brother's voice, "It is natural, I suppose, for you to measure others with your own false scales - but brother, you cheat yourself when you do."

He sighed, bored already, "Just get on with it, Thor."

The oh so _mighty_ thunder god's face hardened, "You are to be taken to Midgard, where the Great Serpent will bind you, and drop its poison into your eyes. . . where it will take over your brain." Was that _regret_ in his voice? Surely not. . .

"A simple death. . ." Loki said, lightly, "I expected better."

"It will not kill you Loki - you will not even feel pain. Odin will command the Serpent to make only the special poison of Conquest - it does not kill, it overtakes. You will have no will, no impulse to act, no desires, no joys, no sorrows, no ambitions, no emotions or wishes at all. For once you will be made to think dispassionately."

All at once, Loki was afraid. To lose all his passion. . . Flames of a caustic dread coiled through his belly like that very Serpent of which Thor spoke, and made him lash out with bitter accusation, "Why did not our _father_ simply take my powers and banish me - as he did to you?" he spat in his brother's direction, "Why must I bear more than you? It was the same crime."

Thor was unmoved, "This _is_ taking your powers and banishing you, Loki. It is far better than you deserve." His voice was calm, almost gentle, but it did not appease the prisoner.

Loki leaped to his feet, "_No_, it is far better than _you_ deserve!" He pointed accusingly to Thor, "Odin ought to slay _both_ of us, and start anew!"

To his surprise, Thor nodded, "I know it. But, this is Odin's choice, and you know as well as I, that it might have been far, far worse." Thor paused, but then said, entreatingly, "Assuredly, it was only thanks to you - well, you and The Destroyer - that I ever earned back my honor when _I_ was punished. Perhaps it will be through me that you will be restored, my brother."

Loki hated the truth in Thor's tone. "You are _not_ my brother, _son_ of Odin," he said, spitefully. "Now _get on with it_."

Thor sighed a little, nodded, softly saying "Very well," and swung Mjolnir to open a portal to Midgard. This close to Yggdrasil, Mjolnir had powers it did not have elsewhere. A bolt of lightening arced its blue-white light between the mighty hammer and the branches of the Tree of Life, and Loki's cell was filled with sharp, soul-rending power of the Bifrost.

The Cube must have restored much of Odin's ability to channel Dark Energy. . .

Strange. . . he had not thought of that. . .

Then he thought of nothing more for a very long time.

* * *

"The Cube will allow us to rebuild the Bifrost, Heimdall," said Thor, "But, I do not think there is an artisan in Asgard who has the knowledge - the Bifrost was made before us, and by those greater than us."

"Yes," said that most noble guardian, "You speak truly, Thunderer." Heimdall stood at the edge of the shattered bridge, overseeing the Nine Realms, but also protecting the Tesseract - an artifact so ancient that no one he had ever met or heard tell of could remember a time before it had existed. There were some who said it was the source of all life. Heimdall did not know if that was true, but he did know that if the Bifrost was to be rebuilt, it would take far greater resources than just the Tesseract. It would take a mind of truly beautiful proportions to remake something that was never meant to be destroyed.

"Odin knows Yggdrasil - The Bifrost is your domain, Heimdall," said Thor, and hesitated a little before going on, "But it is also the domain of one other I know. . ."

Heimdall smiled, his golden eyes twinkling with knowledge. "You wish me to bring her, do you, my prince?"

"I have spoken to Odin, and he agrees - she may be the only one - or at least the only one who can be trusted - who can help us in this matter."

"And it does no harm that she is. . . _yours_ . . . does it?" Heimdall teased lightly.

Thor's face warmed, "She is not mine, Good Guardian. . . not yet."

Heimdall was not sure of this - his prince underestimated the human woman.

"There is a time for all things, Prince of Asgard," was all he said, however.

"Will you bring her, Heimdall, or must I beg Odin to leave half of Asgard unprotected while he channels his great magic to Midgard once more?"

Heimdall laughed, slowly, but with great mirth, "Patience is still not your virtue, is it, Thunderer?"

"The power of the Cube will ease her transport, yes?"

"It will, my Prince."

"Send word to me when you have brought her, then," said Thor, imperiously.

"I will send the lady herself," promised Asgard's guardian, "As soon as I have finished learning the Tesseract's power."

Thor nodded, and strode off, back to the palace.

Heimdall smiled. Jane Foster was already in transport.

* * *

There was nothing but thought. No senses, no desires, no dreaming, no planning. Only thoughts, and they drifted, unfocused, like water.

Loki knew he was suspended by a scaly creature, knew that venom dropped into his face at regular intervals, knew that his mind and soul were thus being overtaken, but he neither cared nor could muster any will to resist. Only facts, memories, some long forgotten, only existence, only truth, only reality was left to him.

Had they known that an absence of torture would be the greatest of all torture?

He could not manage to answer his own question, for another wave of nothing erased his desire to know.

There was no pain, no sense of loss, no sense of time, not even a sense of how his memories fit together. He could not even scream as his mind slowly dissolved away.

Then, somehow, behind the back of his soul, he felt the smallest trickle of something, so faint and distant and weak he would never have regarded it unless his mind had been so void as it was now. A little thread of. . . something. . . flickered in this coma of a consciousness, and he clung to it. It was bright, wavering, it ran and trickled like water. . .

It. . . spoke. . . or _screamed_. . . or laughed. . . or cried. . .

It burst, then died.

He tried to make himself mourn.

Instead, he thought.

The Cube, he had held it, had touched it, had used it. Certainly it was made of the same stuff as the Bifrost had been.

Could it be used to rebuild the Bifrost?

What could this mean?

He could not reason, for he did not have the will to wish to know, but he could think - THINK!

He was a master of magic. He could use Dark Energy. The Tesseract channeled Dark Energy. He had touched the Tesseract.

The only person on earth whom he had tried to capture and had not been able to capture had been Jane Foster.

Thor loved Jane Foster - or, at least, Jane was infatuated with him, and Thor had seen an opportunity he could not yet exploit. . .

What did it matter?

It does not matter, just think.

The voice of the thread had been Jane Foster's.

She had been though the Tesseract, and Loki had felt it.

He had a connection to the Tesseract which neither Thor nor Odin nor Heimdall had detected, and clearly had not severed.

If they rebuilt the Bifrost, the link would become stronger.

Jane was most likely in Asgard in order to help rebuild the Bifrost.

Loki gathered all his scattered wishes, mustering one last expression before he gave himself up to oblivious drifting.

Jane was in Asgard. . .

He smiled.


End file.
